


Red as the Rose, White as the Swan

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Killian doesn't have a heart, season 7 speculation, swan mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: "James Roger" uses the phrase "for as long as he can remember" to describe pretty much everything in his life. He feels nothing. Until a little girl named Lucy introduces herself at the park.Rape/non-con tag is because Killian doesn't have his heart, not for anything violent or graphic.





	Red as the Rose, White as the Swan

**Author's Note:**

> * I was inspired to write this fic when I saw notes from the Disney Expo. I was especially concerned with the comment "the Hook we know only has eyes for Emma." Anyone remember when we were told "the Hook we know will not be an old man"? Well, we all know how that turned out. I think we need to brace ourselves for Killian to be with someone else. I hope I'm wrong, but I really don't think I am. So, I got to thinking. What scenario will Killian have to be in for me to be okay with this? Thus, this story was born . . .  
> * I went back and added the rape/non-consensual tag because someone pointed it out in a comment. Killian doesn't have his heart, so that comment was warranted. I thought I should add the tag to give fair warning. I hate that I didn't consider that sooner; I apologize if it offended or upset anyone.

**Neverland: Centuries Ago**

              The moonlight shimmered upon the waters along Mermaid Lagoon, and a lone figure cut across the calm, glassy surface. The man stepped out upon the sand, shaking out his dark hair. He ran his hands vigorously across it and along his chest and arms to dry himself. Even though no one else was around, he reached quickly for the brace and hook leaning against a piece driftwood. He always bathed alone and in the dark, despite the dangers. Just last week he had almost been pulled under by a mermaid.

              But no one saw Captain Hook without his brace.

              Hook turned as he stepped into his leather pants, gazing out at the moon’s perfect reflection upon the water. He strapped on his brace, squinting in the dark to work the buckles. It wasn’t until the cool curve of steel was clicked into place that he relaxed. All his vulnerability seemed to melt away as long as hardware resided where his hand should be.

              A slight gurgling of the water snagged his attention before he could reach for his shirt. Up through the surface of the water rose a gorgeous woman. He had heard the legends of the goddess Aphrodite, springing forth from the sea foam and gliding toward land upon a seashell. What he saw before him was how he had always imagined such a goddess to be. Yet as the woman walked towards him, he could see she was no goddess. The top she wore, covering only her breasts, was woven from shimmering sea serpent scales and interwoven with bits of shell. Coral necklaces rested against her cleavage. A mermaid. Walking on human legs. In place of a tail was a shimmering green skirt, slit up one leg almost to the top of her thigh.

              Soon, she was standing close enough that the moonlight reflected in her dark eyes. They were so brown, they were almost black. Her hair was also of an ebony so deep, it held a slight purple hue. Hook’s eyes widened in recognition.

              “You’re the mermaid who almost drowned me!”

              “I’m sorry,” she breathed in a voice almost girlish in its innocence. She placed a trembling hand upon his chest. “I’ve never seen a man like you before. So strong. So handsome. I had to have you.”

              She bit upon her lower lip, which was a dark shade of red set against deeply tanned skin. A Neverland mermaid, then. The ones who lived out at deep sea – King Triton’s folk – had pale complexions because they rarely surfaced. Neverland mermaids were mischievous and seductive, sinking many a ship and drowning many a lost boy. He wondered now if the innocence lacing her voice were an act. Hook’s mind worked quickly; crossing her could be his undoing. He gave her his most charming smile when he spoke again.

              “Aw, so you gave yourself legs just to visit me?” he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “How sweet.”

              He felt her slight shudder and heard her sharp intake of breath. Her pupils were blown wide as she gazed into his blue eyes. “I went to the sea witch Ursula. These legs aren’t just for a visit; they’re permanent.”

              Hook arched a brow and ran his curved steel down her arm. The goosebumps left in its wake wasn’t just from the cool metal, of that he was certain. “Why would you risk a deal with such a treacherous one, lass?”

              “Because I love you.”

              Hook stopped the trail he was making down her arm and pulled away. He looked intently into the mermaid’s eyes and spoke with all the sincerity he could muster. “I am flattered, lass, truly I am. But I cannot love. I did once, and the cost was too great. I will never love again.”

              She took a step closer and ran her hands over his chest and up his collar bone. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body flush against his. In her mermaid clothing, little was left to the imagination. And the little minx smiled when she felt his body’s involuntary response to her curves.

              “I can make you love me,” she said with utter confidence, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

She was still wet, and Hook’s own body was still damp from bathing. The slick heat radiating from her skin to his, and vice versa had Hook swallowing hard against the rising desire. It had been weeks since the last supply run for Pan, and thus weeks since he’d found a willing lass in the closest tavern to satisfy his lust. But he had a rule. He always made it clear that physical release was all that he sought. If a lass seemed more enamored with him than he felt comfortable, he found another. And he never entertained the same woman twice. Emotional distance kept his heart safely intact. Or as intact as it could be since losing Milah.

“What is your name, lass?”

“Rose Red.”

She bit upon those insanely dark lips again, and he found the name fitting. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. The innocence she had exuded earlier must have been feigned, for the kiss was anything but. Neither were her hands or any other part of her anatomy. Warning bells went off, trying to remind Hook that this maiden had just pronounced her love for him. She had sacrificed being with her own kind – forever – for a chance at winning his heart. But he was just a man, after all, and a weak one at that. Weak at resisting dark temptations, that is. And Rose Red knew exactly how to please him. Whether it was an enchantment of some kind, or a special skill of a mermaid, he knew not. All he did know was the pleasure he found upon the sand with her body pressed against his.

But afterwards came the consequences. He dressed quickly, barely glancing her way. Then he tossed her a cocky grin that seemed to soothe many a bar wench.

“Well, thank you for a most pleasurable evening.”

At this point, he would exit the tavern room as his conquest dozed upon the bed, or the wench would climb the ladder out of his quarters with a knowing smile and flushed cheeks. But not Rose Red. She rose from the sand, clutching her clothing to her bare chest.

“When will I see you again?”

“Well, you see love,” Hook clarified with a finger to the air, “that’s what I made perfectly clear. This one night was all I could give. You seemed okay with that. So this,” he said, gesturing between them with a dramatic motion, “is the last we’ll be seeing of one another.”

Rose Red clutched desperately at his arm, and he knew he had made a horrible mistake. “But surely you couldn’t have touched me like that, made me feel this way, if you didn’t love me.”

“Oh, I’m rather good.”

Maybe his ego made things worse in this particular situation, but he couldn’t coddle her either. That would only complicate things later on. Even though the tragic loss upon her face gave him pause, he couldn’t show any signs of softening towards her. It would only encourage her.

“I thought . . . “she shuddered as if a chill had brushed her skin, “I thought this would make you love me.”

Hook did something then that was rare; he stepped closer and lifted her chin. It was more than any of his other one night stands received after the deed was done. “I’m sorry you thought that. But I made it clear; I cannot love. I’ll never get over my first love, my Milah. I will avenge her death and then die. There is no future for me.”

Tears began to course down Rose Red’s face, and her shuddering turned to violent trembling. “You don’t understand! This magic has a price!”

Hook’s face fell. He could have told the lass that. It was a truth he knew all too well. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Believe me when I say you’re better off. My heart is full of nothing but poison.”

Rose Red then cried out, but not from her tears. She convulsed in on herself, groaning with pain. Her limbs twisted and curled, and she screamed as thorns pierced her skin. Hook stumbled back in horror as black poison seeped from her dark eyes. She lifted her face mournfully to the sky and gave one last cry. And then was silent.

Hook stumbled away, deep into the jungle, fleeing the place where Rose Red had suddenly transformed into a tangled mass of dreamshade thorns.

**Hyperion Heights, Present Day**

The afternoon sun sparkled off the surface of the water as police officer James Roger made his way across the park, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t know why, but he came here every day after his shift. For as long as he could remember. Of course, he said that about everything in his life.

He stood today staring out pensively at the water, drawing a strange, melancholy comfort from the lone swan that glided in the park’s small lake. He had read somewhere that swan’s mated for life, so this one must have lost her mate, for she was all alone in the pond. Always had been. For as long as he could remember.

He sighed deeply. Perhaps that was why he came; to draw strange comraderie from a water fowl. Not that he was alone. No, he and Moira had been married for two years. But lately, he had to admit that something wasn’t right.

“You like swans?”

James started at the sudden question and turned to see a dark haired girl of about ten standing next to him. Never able to fully shed his law enforcement side, he crouched to the girl’s level.

“You should never go up to a grown up you don’t know. It isn’t safe.”

The girl gave him a grin that looked slightly humorous. “But you’re a cop. Isn’t that different?”

He narrowed his eyes, “I’m out of uniform. How do you know I’m a cop?”

“Because I know you.”

There was a mischievous glint to her eyes that was curious, but then James felt the pieces fall into place. “Oh, I know! You must be one of the kids at the elementary school.” He had gone there last week to do a safety demonstration.

The girl’s brown eyes flickered across his shoulder. “Oh!” she exclaimed, a flash of fear darting across her features. “I have to go!”

Then she was gone as suddenly as she came. James shook his head as if to clear it. Something about the girl had seemed oddly familiar.

“James!”

He turned and waved at his wife as she came across the grass. This happened daily as well. She stopped in front of him, ran her hands up his chest, over his collar bone, and linked her arms around his neck.

“Kiss me,” she told him.

He complied. He was a seasoned cop who took orders from no one.

Except his wife.

              **************************************************

The next day, the same little girl was there when he arrived at the park. Ignoring his warning from yesterday about stranger danger, she grasped his hand and pulled him down onto the bench facing the water.

“I want you to look at my book,” she explained, “but we don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have five minutes,” the child explained to him with barely concealed irritation, “before _she_ arrives.”

“She?”

“Your _wife_?” The little girl practically spat the word as if it tasted foul on her tongue. “She comes here every day to meet you at the exact same time. Long enough for the swan to swim close to shore, but not long enough for the bird to get close to you.”

“Okay,” James laughed, but the joviality faded when he saw the seriousness in the child’s face. He scratched nervously behind his ear, and she smiled. “What’s this book you want me to see?”

“Fairy tales,” she told him, setting a thick volume of embossed white leather onto his lap. She leaned over and flipped through the pages, “Here,” she said, pointing.

James leaned forward to look closely at the illustration. It looked like a prince and princess at a ball. The princess was radiant in a red gown, her golden hair pulled back into a twist with sweet tendrils framing her face. He could almost hear her laughter.

“Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing,” James whispered, running his hand across the page.

“You read that?” the child asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“No . . . “ James mused, “I . . . I don’t know where that came from.”

“Yikes!” the little girl yelped, jumping up and grabbing the book. “She’ll be here any minute; I gotta run!”

“Hey, wait!” he called after her. The child turned, and he asked her, “What’s your name?”

“Lucy!”

              ******************************************************

James entered his bedroom later that night with cold dread filling his stomach like lead. He knew this wasn’t a normal reaction for a man about to share a bed with his wife, but it was how he felt every single night. Moira smiled up at him with her deep red lips as he approached the bed, tossing aside the magazine she was reading. She reached out and grasped his left hand. Whenever she held his left hand, it felt especially strange. Actually, his left hand never quite felt normal. He just didn’t feel much, as if that hand were constantly numb. He had actually gone to the doctor time and again about it, and every time they told him the same thing.

He was perfectly healthy. It was all in his head.

And then he would insist that there must be something wrong. Wasn’t numbness on your left side sign of an impending heart attack? And speaking of his heart, something wasn’t right about it, either. It was like a gaping hole resided in his chest. Sometimes he swore it wasn’t beating at all, but then the doctor would let him listen to the stethoscope and hear the steady _thump thump_ for himself.

James climbed in bed beside Moira, knowing what would most likely happen. Sometimes she was tired, or stressed, or had a headache, but most nights, she would run her fingernails down his bicep and pin him with her dark eyes.

“Make love to me.”

It was a demand, not a request, and one he could never refuse. It always felt slightly surreal, as if he were watching it happen instead of participating in it. He just couldn’t _feel_ anything. And at the height of it, Moira would demand something else.

“Tell me you love me.”

And like everything else she asked of him, he couldn’t refuse.

              ********************************************************

This time when James arrived at the park, he was expecting Lucy. She was already sitting on the park bench with that book of hers open on her lap. He sat down next to her, giving her a bright smile.

“What do you think of this part of the story?” she asked him, pointing at another vivid illustration.

He gazed at it, a lump forming inexplicably in his throat. It was the same golden-haired beauty from before, but she was in white instead of red. There was her dark-haired prince, but here he looked more like a pirate. They were kissing passionately in a field carpeted with roses. But not red roses; white ones tipped with pale pink. For some reason, that was important to him.

“The roses aren’t red,” he told Lucy. Then he mentally kicked himself. It was a stupid thing to say.

Lucy grinned broadly. “No, they’re not.” She jumped to her feet shortly after that, but before she left, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The she took off.

When Moira arrived, as always, she demanded that he kiss her. When James did, he followed Lucy’s parting advice. He opened his eyes and looked at the swan sitting so close to shore.

Was that a tear slipping from its eye?

              *****************************************************

Panting and drenched in sweat, James jerked upwards from the dream he was having. Moira awakened as well, drawing closer and kissing his shoulder. She pushed sweaty hair from his forehead.

“What is it?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know. Just – all these images were playing in front of me. A beanstalk, and a jungle, and an ice wall . . . “ he didn’t tell Moira about the blonde woman who was also there. The blonde who he flirted with. The blonde he embraced.

The blonde he kissed.

And one thing was certain. When he held this blonde woman in his arms – hell, when she was just standing in his general vicinity. His heart. It was there, and it felt things. Deeper things than he ever thought possible.

              *****************************************************

The picture Lucy showed him the next day was of a wedding. It was the same couple, and they looked so incandescently happy. James knew he had never felt that happy. Not for as long as he could remember. The man had dipped the woman and was kissing her. He noticed the arm at the bride’s waist. At the end was a hook instead of a hand. James flexed his left hand and then pointed at the illustration.

“He has a hook,” he pointed out to Lucy.

“You didn’t notice that in the middlemist picture?”

“No – middlemist?”

“That’s the name of the roses in the field. When Captain Hook kissed Emma Swan in Camelot.”

“Emma Swan,” James breathed.

“Yes,” Lucy said, bouncing up from the bench, “Emma Swan.”

James gazed out at the water where the same swan as every other day swam towards him. Lucy’s voice tore him from his reverie.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, leaning sideways to look at him more closely.

“I’m sorry lass –“ James paused, clearing his throat. Was that a British accent slipping from his lips? He didn’t have an accent. He had lived in Washington state for . . . as long as he could remember.

Lucy’s smile was almost giddy. “Can you bring your daughter tomorrow?”

James blinked, shaking his head. “I don’t know . . .” Moira had forbidden Hope to come back to the pond after the swan walked right up to the child and nudged her hand. The bird hadn’t harmed the child, but Moira swore the bird carried diseases.

“There’s a half day of school tomorrow, isn’t there?” Lucy asked, shifting from side to side.

“That’s right!” James exulted, face brightening. Moira rarely gave him any time alone with Hope, but tomorrow was his day off. They had a whole father-daughter date planned. Surely they could stop by the park.

“Great!” Lucy replied before taking off. “See you both at noon tomorrow!”

              **************************************************

“James,” Moira’s demanding voice sounded from Hope’s doorway, “stop coddling the girl and come to bed.”

James leaned over and brushed a kiss against his six year old daughter’s blonde head. Then he ran his hand along her silky curls. _She looks like her mother._ The thought arrested him, almost giving him the strength to resist Moira’s demand. As it was, he paused in the doorway as Hope shifted in her sleep. Maybe he only married Moira because of Hope. The girl’s mother had died when she was only three.

James’ thoughts drifted, as they always did, as he gave his body to Moira. What had his first wife looked like? He couldn’t remember. How had they met? How long were they married before Hope was born? He just didn’t know.

For that matter, he didn’t know how he had met Moira, either. It just felt as if they had been married . . . for as long as he could remember.

“Tell me you love me.”

He repeated the words by rote.

_************************************************_

_He was standing on a road, and the blonde beauty from Lucy’s story book was standing before him. A billowing cloud of smoke approached from behind, crackling with lightning._

_“Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.”_

_“Good.”_

_Then he was standing at an apartment door. It swung open, and there she was, blonde curls tousled from sleep._

_“At last.”_

_A swirling vortex of violent light swam before his vision. He was clutching her hand as hard as he could, but she slipped from his grasp._

_“One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.”_

_His swollen eyes opened painfully, clogged with blood. He could barely stand, yet he could hear her voice._

_“When you love someone; you know.”_

_He was tied up to a pyre, and teenage boys danced around it, shaking torches up into the night sky. It was the end. Until . . . there she was._

_“Killian!”_

_“Emma!”_

_They stood on the porch of a blue house with white trim. The three of them clung to one another. He kissed both his lasses. She took his face in her hands._

_“We’ll find our way back to each other. We always do.”_

              It wasn’t the images that awakened James this time, but Hope’s cries. He sprang from the bed and raced down the hall. Moira groaned in irritation as she rolled over. James skidded to a stop when he entered his daughter’s room, hesitating. Every light was flickering on and off. Toys were lighting up and making sounds. The raucous noises had brought Moira out of their room, grumbling about spoiled children. She gasped when she saw Hope’s room.

              Hope herself thrashed in the bed, whimpering one word over and over – “Mommy!” James came cautiously closer to the bed, easing himself down upon the edge of the mattress. It was only then he noticed his daughter’s hands.

              White light sparked and crackled from her finger tips.

              Hope’s blue eyes flew open, and then all the chaos ceased. She flung herself into her father’s arms, sobbing. He whispered soothingly to her, rubbing her back and kissing her cheek.

              Finally, Hope calmed down enough to speak. She pulled away from her father, her face mottled and her eyes frantic. “Daddy! We have to go down to the pond and see the swan. Now!”

              “Honey,” James soothed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it’s dark outside. We can’t go now.”

              He pulled her close again, and Hope clung to him desperately. “But we’ll go see the swan? Soon?”

              James eyed Moira whose long, ebony hair glinted dark purple in the glare of the hall light. He had to tread carefully lest Moira forbid them to go.

              “We’ll see, baby. We’ll see.”

                             ***************************************************

              The next day, Lucy ran to greet them as they made their way across the park. Lucy threw her arms around Hope, and James was shocked when his daughter returned the hug.

              “Do you two know each other?” James asked, his brow furrowed.

              The two girls linked hands and giggled. “No,” Lucy told him, shaking her head, “I never met her until today.”

Lucy then reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging both him and Hope down to the water’s edge. For some reason, his pulse quickened as the swan glided closer and closer to shore. It went to him first when it exited the water, nudging his leg with its head. He reached down hesitantly to pet it. The bird shuddered from head to tail feathers at his touch, causing James to laugh. It then turned to Hope and walked right up to the little girl. The swan was large, almost as tall as Hope herself. His daughter smiled, then reached out and wrapped her arms around the swan’s elegant neck. James hesitated, wondering if he should pull his daughter away, but the swan peacefully accepted the hug. Then Hope turned her face and pressed a kiss to the top of the swan’s head.

A pulse of light shot out from the place where Hope’s lips had touched the swan. The burst sent James stumbling backwards. He clutched his head as memories assaulted him, flipping like a slideshow, faster and faster.

Simultaneously, light enveloped the swan before him. Its feathers spread out, and its neck lengthened. Then it took a deep breath, the light burst outward, and the most beautiful woman in the world stood smiling before him, a feathery white gown hugging her figure, and a circlet of pearls atop her golden hair.

“Killian!” she said as Hope clung to her side in a tight hug.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered, a tear tracking down his cheek. Even with the gaping hole in his chest, he could feel this.

Emma shook her head, tears coursing down her face as well. He took a step forward to embrace her, but before he could, a searing pain sent him to his knees. He had felt this before.

“Emma!” he gasped out in pain, as he clutched his chest. Moira stepped between Killian and his wife, clutching his heart in an iron grip. “Rose Red,” he choked out, full realization dawning.

“Oh, so you actually remember my name?” she said sarcastically, a bitter laugh bubbling from her throat.

“You’re,” Killian gasped, “supposed to be a thorn bush back in Neverland.”

“Well you know,” Rose Red continued, throwing up her hand to freeze Emma in place as she surged forward to intervene, “fate is a funny thing. It was fate that caused a lost boy to choose _my_ bush for his poisoned arrow. And it was fate that caused that arrow to graze Prince Charming, of all people. And as the poison – my poison – coursed through the veins of a man filled with the truest of loves, it broke my curse. And lo and behold, what did I see first with my human eyes? The Jolly Roger. I _still_ loved you, Captain Hook, so I set off to find you. I heard your voice in the echo caves, but do you know what I heard when I got there?”

Killian lifted his eyes to see Emma, her face frozen in a painful expression. He glanced at Hope, the poor child, who had tears streaming down her face. He always feared his past would hurt them one day. He just hadn’t thought it would end like this.

“I heard you,” Rose Red spat at him, “telling _Emma Swan_ that her kiss had made you realize that you could love again. I gave you so much more, but it wasn’t enough. I wandered Neverland for months, utterly heartbroken. Until my heartbreak turned to rage. I ravaged the Enchanted Forest learning all the dark arts I could. Perfecting my own little version of a dark curse. You see, the Evil Queen made a fatal flaw. She kept everyone together. My curse would truly rip everyone away from the people they loved. Specifically, Captain Hook and Emma Swan.”

Rose Red paced back and forth, Killian’s heart still in her palm. But she was no longer squeezing it. Killian straightened, eyeing her, looking for an opening.

“I sent half the people of Storybrooke away – separating Rumple from Belle and Gideon, separating Regina from Henry and Zelena. I couldn’t separate the Charmings – curse their shared heart – but I had something special planed for you and your Swan. A way for your perfect Emma to be tortured every day as I finally enjoyed what I had desired for so long.” Rose Red turned and glared at Emma, lifting Killian’s heart high. “And now she shall watch as I kill you.”

Rose Red squeezed, and Killian cried out involuntarily. He wanted to stay strong for his girls, but the pain was too great. He braced himself for the final squeeze.

But it never came.

Much like Rumple in the clock tower so long ago, Rose Red grunted as she attempted in vain to crush Killian’s heart. “Why can’t I kill you!” she screamed at him.

“Because I’m not letting you!”

Killian’s eyes widened at the sight of his daughter, arms outstretched, hair flying as light magic surged from her palms. She swung her right arm outward, releasing Emma, then sent her father’s heart flying into her left hand. Now free, Emma sent her own magic flying towards Rose Red. The woman screamed as she fell to the ground. Instead of legs, a tail flopped upon the sand.

“No!” she screamed.

“Oh, yes,” Emma spat. “You’re lucky I don’t fillet your ass, bitch.” She backhanded Rose Red, who fell unconscious to the sand.

Emma rushed to Killian’s side. Hope was already kneeling next to him, cradling his heart in her hands. She bit her lip in a gesture so like her mother.

“Um, maybe you should do this, Mommy.”

Emma laughed, taking the heart gently from her daughter. She cupped Killian’s face with her other hand. “Are there any other crazy women out there I should know about?”

“Return my heart already, Swan, so I c-“ Killian grunted loudly as Emma shoved his heart back in place.

“Sorry,” she apologized with a grimace, “what were you about to sa-“

Killian broke off her words with a passionate kiss as every emotion he ever felt for his true love surged through his veins. Emma knelt before him on the sand, kissing him back as if he were the very air she breathed, her fingers carding through his hair.

“Normally, I would be grossed out. I mean, you _are_ my grandparents. But under the circumstances, I guess it’s kind of sweet.”

Emma and Killian slowly parted, blinking, as they looked carefully into Lucy’s face. They then exchanged knowing looks as the pieces fell into place.

“Wait a second,” Emma asked, raising her hand in the air, “how long have we been cursed?”

“Twelve years, eight days, eleven hours, and forty-three minutes,” Lucy smirked. “Give or take a few minutes.”

“Well, well, well,” Killian chuckled, “it looks like our Henry’s been busy.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked her husband in the chest. They rose as one, embracing Hope even as they kept their arms around each other. Lucy cleared her throat.

“Enough hugging. We’ve got the rest of our family to save.”

Hope grinned up at her parents. “She’s right. It’s what our family does.”

**Author's Note:**

> * I know many others have done a Swan Lake type of storyline, probably much better than this one. I hope I put something new to it!  
> * No, this still isn't my season seven divergence. I came up with that one when we knew almost nothing about season seven. The first chapter of that will be to you hopefully by Tuesday!  
> * I know the Rose Red flashback was kind of tough. But, I had to be honest with the kind of person Hook was then. And I needed to give her sufficient motivation to cast a curse and control his heart. Really, on the show he better be cursed and preferably without his heart to be with anyone but Emma!


End file.
